A Mutual Person of Interest
by Jada17
Summary: Reese and Finch get another number, but she's more than they expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first POI story, so thank you for taking the time to read it! Here goes nothin'!**

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"I still can't believe you left me, mom." For what had to be the fourth day in a row, I had been curled up on my Uncle David's couch staring at a picture of my mom. It had been less than a month since my mom had finally given in to the cancer spreading through her body, and only five days since the funeral. If I had to be honest with myself, I didn't know how I was going to move on from here. What do you do when your best friend is taken, when your mom is taken from you? I didn't know how to live without a mom.

"Are you still sittin' on that couch?" A southern accented voice called from the hallway. I raised my head slowly as my mom's brother entered the room. I managed something that resembled a smile before looking back down at the picture and remained silent for a moment.

Dave was a tall man, 6" 4" on the dot, with tan skin, thick curly brown hair and thick brown eyebrows hovering over his chocolate eyes. He leaned against the door frame holding a couple of envelopes.

"I just can't imagine a world without her, Dave. What am I going to do now? I mean, she was the best cop the force had ever seen. How is it fair that she spent her life saving people and only to die from something that people beat every day?"

While I'd spoken, Dave had settled on the couch beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. A single tear made its way down my face and he reached his calloused hand up to wipe it away gently. Losing his sister had been hard, but I think watching me lose my mom had been even harder. We both knew of the great possibility that every time Natalie went to work that we would never see her again and Dave had accepted that he would be the one to hold my hand through mom's death. But neither one of us had ever expected for it to hit us both so hard. Dave brushed a light kiss across his niece's forehead and then pushed his large frame up off the couch.

"Terra, you know your momma loved you more than anything in this world. And the last thing she would want to see is you sittin' on this couch wallowing. So, from now on…no more wallowing. Now, I'm going to the store to get a few things and you're going upstairs to take a shower. Cause as much as I love ya," He cracked a smile. "You're startin' to smell."

I smiled a little. But when I didn't respond he used two fingers to tip my chin up until our eyes met. "Terra Robin Matthews, I swear, if you're still sittin' on that couch when I get back from the store I'll take a switch to ya."

For the first time since mom died, I felt an actual smile spread across my face. I nodded a bit and then sighed. "Ok, Dave. I promise I'll only wallow for a few more minutes before taking a shower."

Chuckling, Dave shook his head and finally headed out the door. Once I was alone I brushed my fingers across mom's face in the picture. "'I'll always miss you mom." I felt like I should say more, but I couldn't find the words. Instead I sighed again, tucked the photo back into the journal on the coffee table and forced myself to head upstairs and into the shower.

Over the next few days I forced myself to go through my usual routine. I helped Dave around the house, took care of the horses and cleaned out their stables. Finally, when a month had passed, I finally felt as if I could breathe without tears being caught in my throat. At a month and a half I found myself actually laughing at Dave's jokes again. And when two months had passed I could think of my mom without a lump forming in my throat.

"Terra, dinner's ready. Wash your hands and get your butt down here." I smiled at myself in the mirror and chuckled. I would miss the day to day with my uncle, but I had promised my mom that I would deliver it. Glancing down, I touched the envelope on my dresser and sighed slightly. Why my mom had wanted me to deliver a letter to a man I'd had never heard of? I had no idea, but a promise was a promise. "Terra Matthews, don't make me come up there after you!"

Through my laughter, I called down the stairs, "I'm on my way." Shaking my head, I picked up the envelope, stuffed it into my back pocket and ducked into the bathroom to wash my hands. The smell of my uncle's lasagna wafted through the house and I was ravenous.

My goal to make it all the way through dinner before asking Dave about the letter failed me, and about halfway through my plate of lasagna I heard myself saying the words I'd been fighting against in my head. "Dave, who's Harold Finch?"

xXx

Dave almost choked on his lasagna and stared in surprise at his niece. That was most definitely not a name he'd expected to ever hear come out of Terra's mouth. As far as he knew Natalie had cut all ties with Finch and hadn't looked back. Apparently what he had known was wrong. Eyeing Terra thoughtfully Dave took another bite of his lasagna and then set his fork down. "He's a software engineer, I think."

"Where does he live?"

"Last I knew, he was livin' somewhere in New York. Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering him Terra reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter. Placing it on the table she pushed it towards him and waited until Dave picked it up.

"The last thing mom said to me was that I would find a letter inside her desk which I needed to hand deliver. Oh, and not just deliver, she wanted me to make sure I stayed and made sure this Finch guy actually read the letter. I mean…why do I need to drive across the country all the way from Washington for something that can just get mailed?" Sighing, she set down her fork and ran her fingers through her hair sending the dark waves dancing around her shoulders. "I guess what I'm saying is, do you really think I should deliver this letter in person? Or can I just drop it in the mail and go on with my life?"

For a minute or two Dave just stared at the letter and then he smiled softly at his niece before handing the letter back. "I think you should do what your momma wanted, Ter. We may not have always understood why she did the things she did, but she always had a reason. So I think you should ride this one out." Terra nodded in agreement. Then, as if it was settled, Dave picked up his fork and went back to eating his lasagna.

For a minute Terra stared at her uncle and then nodded. "Ok," She took a breath. "Then, I guess I'm leaving for New York in the morning." And just like that it was settled. Whether it was really a good idea or not, tomorrow she would set out to deliver the letter and then she would move on with her life.

Shortly after dawn and with her silver Taurus packed with her most important belongings Terra was finally ready to hit the road.

"Hold on, Ter." Dave looked at his niece. She looked so much like her mother; long, thick, dark hair, tanned skin from working all day in the sun, and wild green eyes. Dave wrapped his long arms around Terra, who did the same. "I love you kiddo."

Terra closed her eyes and inhaled the spicy scent of her uncle as tears began to fill her eyes. "I love you too."

When they pulled away, Dave wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Damn dust." She smiled as he handed her s lip of paper. "Here's Harold's address. Be safe."

Terra nodded, not trusting her voice. It would be a long drive from Burbank, Washington to New York. For the first time she would be alone on her journey. A few tears and several painful moments after she got in the car, she actually got the nerve to turn the key in the ignition and back the car out of her aunt's driveway. If this was the way that her life was going to be, then she just needed to grow up and accept it. There was no bringing her mom back and burying her head in the sand wasn't an option, so this was what she had. Miles and miles of lonely road ahead of her and years of memories behind her.

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**Next chapter will have Reese and Finch!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Reese and Finch in this Chapter!**

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A little over eleven hours and eight hundred miles later I finally pulled in to a little motel somewhere in Miles City, Montana. I was about one quarter of the way to my destination but I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Having to remind myself not to cry every five minutes was as depressing as it was draining. Two more days of driving, I told myself. Then I could deliver the letter to Harold Finch and go back to Washington, maybe even work on Dave's farm until I could afford my own place.

I stared at mom's picture while I snuggled under the covers trying to find sleep that wouldn't come. "Why am I even doing this, mom?" I whispered. "What's so important that I had to deliver this myself? Why couldn't you just tell me what's in the letter?" When I realized that I was talking to myself, I sighed and put mom's picture on the nightstand before turning out the light. Asking questions of a dead woman would never get me the answers I wanted.

xXx

"We have another number, Mr. Reese."

"Well, good morning to you too, Finch." John walked into the library to see Harold typing away on one of his many computers. "Who've we got?" He handed John a picture of a young woman, who couldn't be more than twenty years old. She had wild green eyes that shined with happiness that matched the smile on her lips; she had high cheekbones and tanned skin. She was statuesque with her light brown hair, gently waving to her waist.

"Terra Matthews." Harold said, pulling up several pages on the girl. "Seventeen years old."

"Any obvious reason why she'd be a target?"

"Nothing on the surface." Harold typed rapidly on the keys. "She was born in Washington State, in Burbank with her mother until her death a few months ago. She's been staying with her uncle on his farm. Here's something." He clicked on something. "Her mother, Natalie Matthews, was a police officer for fifteen years." He read from the screen. "Apparently, she filled half the cells in Benton County Jail."

He nodded. "Impressive. And she made lots of enemies in the process, no doubt."

"That's most likely why she moved her and her daughter to the country." Finch commented, fingers pecking at the keys.

"So maybe someone Terra's mother put away is coming back for revenge?" Reese suggested. "But since her mom is already dead, they're going after the next best thing."

"So either Terra knew someone was after her and is on the run," Finch said as he pulled up several other pages of information. "Or they already have her."

"So I'm going to Washington?" Reese said.

"No." Finch replied. "Because she's not there. I spoke to her boss and he said she was going on a road trip for a week or so, out of state, but she failed to mention where."

"And you can't track the GPS in her phone?" Reese asked.

"No." Was Finch's simple reply. "She must have a cell phone scrambler because every time I try to activate the GPS in her phone, I get nothing."

"I'll ask Carter to put out an APB on her." John said as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. "Can you pull up a list of people her mother put away? See which ones have been released recently, we'll go from there." Finch nodded and got to work.

xXx

The next morning I allowed myself to sleep in a bit, and then showered and dressed with care. For some reason it was important to me to present a good impression to this Harold Finch.

I paused before I picked up my bag. I gave myself one last look in the mirror. I had applied a little eyeliner and some lip gloss for the first time in months. Slowly my eyes traveled down and I took in the sight of my long wavy hair dangling around my shoulders, the way my favorite red sweater hugged my body around my midsection. Finally letting my eyes roam down to the dark blue jeans that hugged my hips and the comfortable brown hiking boots made me feel more confident for some reason. Giving myself the final seal of approval I slung my bag over my shoulder.

I heard my cell phone ringing from my bag. Walking from the bathroom to my bag, I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. _Jamison. _I pressed talk and brought it to my ear.

"Chief Jamison?"

"Terra," He said. But there was something wrong. The tone of his voice made my heart drop to my stomach. "Are you home?"

"No, I-" I sighed, throwing my clothes into my duffel bag. "I'm taking a road trip. Why?"

"—he was released—he's looking for you." He kept breaking out and got the gist of it…expect for _who_ had gotten released and was looking for me "Terr—" Jamison's voice called me back to the present. "Did you hear me?"

I shook my head. "No, you're breaking up, I can't understand you."

"Get home! I—surveillance team—"

"No." I said. "I'm sorry, but there's something I promised my mom I would do."

"Be careful." He told her. "Keep an eye out for—" The line went dead. Well, crap. I looked at my phone and furrowed my brow. I had only one bar. I'd call him back in a little while.

The first thing I did was drive to the bank and withdraw two thousand dollars from my savings account. Whoever was after me could be sneaky and track my debit card. I drove for another thirteen hours before driving into a good sized town in search of a gas station. Pulling into a gas station, I tried to call Chief Jamison back, but received no answer. I fueled up and got something to eat on the road and a few bottles of water.

Just to be on the safe side, I made sure no one was following me. Figuring out if a car is tailing you is mostly about driving like you're an idiot. You speed up, slow down, signal left but turn right, you know stupid stuff like that. Losing a tail isn't about driving fast. A high-speed pursuit is just gonna get you on the 6 o'clock news. So just keep driving like an idiot until the other guy makes a mistake. A little trick I learned from my mom.

When I was content that no one was tailing me, I set out on the highway again.

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**Please R&R! Gives me lots of motivation to keep writing! Love ya! **

**p.s.**

**Thanks to Matt Nix for that last paragraph! **


	3. Chapter 3

"Yeah, I got a hit on your girl, Terra Matthews," Carter said over the phone. Finch put her on speaker and told her to go on. "A security camera at a bank places her in Miles City, Montana at 6:30 yesterday morning. I talked to the bank; they said she withdrew three thousand dollars from her savings account."

Finch hacked into Carter's computer and pulled up the footage from the bank.

"She's definitely running from someone." Reese commented, watching as the girl looked around the bank several times with wide eyes while waiting for the teller to return with her money. "Thanks Carter." He was about to hang up when her voice stopped him.

"Wait, there's somethin' else." When she spoke again, her voice was lower. "I did a quick scan on her background, and—"

"You found something." Reese finished for her.

"Yeah, smartass." She retorted, bringing a hint of a smile to Reese's face. "I found a sealed file."

"Can you unseal it?" Finch asked.

"Not without a court order." She sighed. "And without a good reason, no judge would even consider it."

"That's alright, Detective." Finch hung up the phone and his fingers flew over the keys of his computer. Reese watched him for a moment, before voicing his question.

"How is that alright, Finch?" Reese asked. "That file could explain why her number came up."

"I'm going to contact the courthouse in Burbank, Washington."

"Then what?"

"Convince them to send us the records." Finch said simply.

xXx

I sat in my car, outside the home of Harold Finch. And as much as I wanted to just put the letter in his mail slot and leave, start my new life, I couldn't. I made a promise and I intended to keep it.

Before coming here, I had taken a trip to a shadier side of the neighborhood. After an exchange of words, I handed a man with a dark hoodie one thousand dollars and he handed me a Glock 26 and an ankle hostler. Couldn't be too safe.

So here I was. It was just before five in the afternoon before I could even get up the courage to get out of the car. As I shut the door, I saw movement in the front window. I put my hands in my coat pockets, my left hand touching the letter, and crossed the street. I walked up the steps and lifted my hand to knock when I noticed it was already ajar. From the car I couldn't see it but I could now that I was closer.

I knocked lightly and the lightweight door opened. "Mr. Finch?" I called. There was a broken vase on the floor. That alone should've told me to leave, call the cops or something, but you know, curiosity killed the…okay, bad metaphor, but you get what I mean. "Hello?"

Okay, now I was starting to sound like one of those girls in the bad horror flicks. Girl walks into house, calls out "hello?" and gets whacked. It never fails. But I went in anyways.

"Mr. Finch? I'm coming inside." Stepping through the small hallway from the door, I glanced into the living room only to find no one there. I quietly muttered to myself, "Okay, Terra, just leave now. Just turn tail and get the hell out of here."

I walked further down the hallway, passing by the study and bathroom, both empty. At the end of the hall was the kitchen. I walked into it only to find (yet again) not a single soul. Just as I was about to turn around and head towards out the door, something hit me over the head, knocking me to the ground. I drew my arms up to my chest, curling on my side instinctively. A few seconds later, a hard boot slammed into my shoulder, forcefully rolling me on my back.

There were two men standing above me, one was a short brown-haired man and the other was tall, maybe 6"5", he was holding a wooden baseball bat. I could feel blood dripping down from the side of my head, where the bat had made contact, dribbling down my face and neck.

Before I could scream for help, the tall blond guy fell upon me, pressing his knee into my abdomen. I struggled, trying to throw the man off even though my vision was still blurred from the hit. I got one good punch in before the second man's hands pin my arms to the ground.

The blond pulled a rag out of his pocket and pressed it firmly to my bloody mouth. My eyes widened as I recognized the smell of chloroform. Just as I resolved to stop breathing, the blond lifted his knee up off my abdomen, before dropping it back down, forcing me to gasp and breathe in the vapors.

My eyes fluttered for a moment before they shut.

xXx

"Please, either slow down or let me drive." Finch requested.

"I'm only going a few miles over the speed limit, Finch." Reese stated calmly.

"Oh," Came the reply. "Well, I suppose it seems faster on two wheels."

Finch had received a message on his phone along with security footage of one of his cover residences in Queens. His jaw dropped for a moment before collecting himself. Two men had just broken into his place, and only five minutes later, Terra Matthews herself had walked through the front door.

Now, Reese said nothing as he sped down 45th avenue in Queens, stopping behind a silver car, Terra's, according to the license plate. "Check out her car."

Reese crossed the street and took the stairs, two at a time, up to the residence, while Harold got out and limped to her car, looking through the windows, only to find that she wasn't there.

There were obvious signs of a break-in and a struggle. Taking a few steps inside, Reese stopped and bent down to pick up a white cloth from the ground. He barely brought it a foot away from his nose and knew.

Chloroform.

Outside, he heard gunshots and dropped the cloth, in favor of taking his gun out and ran outside. There was a car shooting the tires of Harold's car, and as they sped off, he caught a glimpse of a woman, unconscious in the backseat. Reese fired a few shots at them, but it did nothing to stop them.

He looked around and saw Harold behind Terra's car; he'd been looking at the items in the backseat (a few fast food wrappers, water bottles and a duffel bag) when the gunshots started. John ran across the street and broke the driver's side window with the butt of his gun and unlocked the car doors from the inside. Both men got into Terra's car and Reese reached under the steering wheel, hotwiring it.

For a few blocks, Reese was right on the black sedan's trail. But as the sedan turned into an alley and made an abrupt turn back onto the street, Reese was blocked by a large semi, backing into the alley.

"They're good," Reese muttered, quickly switching to reverse, backing out of the alley and returning to the street.

"But not that good. Pull over." Reese did so, but sent a questioning gaze to the other man. In response, Finch took out a small gun-like contraption. "This device has small tracking devices inside. And when fired, lodges itself— in this case, into the tire of their getaway car— and will allow us to track them."

"Well, where are they?"

"I'm not sure." Finch responded. "This device is only a prototype, so the car will have to stop before we can triangulate their exact location."

A few minutes passed when Reese thought of something. "I thought you didn't like guns, Finch." He motioned to the contraption.

"I don't," Finch stated tiredly. "But this isn't a gun to shoot _people _with. It's harmless."

Reese sighed. "So now we wait?"

Finch gave him a knowing look. "As aggravating as it is, Mr. Reese, yes, now we wait."

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**R&R! **


	4. Chapter 4

The ringing in my head is what woke me up. But the loud laughter is what compelled me to open my eyes. As soon as I opened my eyes, I had to blink several times thanks to my blurred vision. Ever put on those "drunk goggles" on school safety day? That's what everything looked like.

Looking up, I saw that I was tied up and hanging from the ceiling, and judging by the stiffness of my shoulders, I'd been hanging a while. Besides that, the ropes were unbearably tight. Awesome.

I could feel my hair plastered to my forehead by something wet, I rested my head on my arm and when I pulled back, there was blood on my arm. It was then that I realized there was a stinging pain in my legs. I looked down and on my legs (mostly my shins and above the knee) incisions had been made through my jeans and most were more than an inch long. And from the looks of the clean tears in my jeans, I'd say the cuts were from a scalpel. Looking around, my suspicions were confirmed when I saw a bloody scalpel lying on a small table a few yards away from me.

My head was throbbing painfully and fought to remember what had happened. I had gone into Harold Finch's apartment…and now I was in a room, it looked like a warehouse of some sort. From the little bit of light coming through the window, I concluded that it was either dawn or dusk, I couldn't tell for sure.

There were three guys in the room. There was a short, dark haired guy, sitting at a small folding table playing cards with another guy, he had sandy brown hair that was spiked up with gel, while a tall blond man leaned against the wall. He was definitely the creepiest of the three. His narrowed pale blue eyes just stared at me, like he was trying to see through me.

He reached over to the table and tapped his knuckles on it. The short guy looked up at blondie, who nodded to me, and turned to look at me.

"Well," He said, sauntering over to me. "Sleeping Beauty finally woke up." He stopped a few feet in front of me and his eyes looked me up and down, slowly, in a way that made me feel totally violated.

"Who are you?" I asked. I meant it to sound demanding, though it came out strained. "What do you want?"

Short guy only shrugged. "Me? I'm no one. Just doing what I'm getting' paid for."

I furrowed my brows. "Who paid you?"

He laughed and shook a finger at me like I was a child getting scolded. "Now that's classified information, doll."

"Okay, then. Could you at least tell me where I am?" If I couldn't get a name, then maybe a place?

"New York." I rolled my eyes. His smile faded but came back as full as ever. "I  
think that's enough talking for now." He looked like he was gonna say more, but his ringing cell phone interrupted him. He looked at the screen and cursed. He turned on his heel and headed for the door. Before walking through it, he jabbed a finger at the blond guy's chest. "And _you. _Hands off the girl."

"Don't you trust me?" He answered in a thick Scottish accent, though it was more growl than brogue.

"No." He slammed the door behind him. As soon as the door shut, I felt and saw the blonde's eyes snap back to me. The other guy just leaned back in his chair and played some game on his phone, seeming very bored. Blondie just stood there watching for a minute before taking a few steps forward. He stopped a few feet from me and tilted his head, all creepy-like. He raised his hand towards my face.

"Hold it." That was the first time the other guy had spoken. Blondie stopped, but the rage in his eyes was unmistakable. "You heard him, Leprechaun. Hands off."

"Stop callin' me that." He grumbled. "And I wasn't goin' ta hurt her." His eyes flickered down to my shirt—or more accurately, my boobs—and smiled. "Nothin' _too _bad, anyway." His hand continued to move towards my face as I pulled my head back. The way his pale blue eyes looked at me, it triggered something. A memory. Suddenly, I could smell the cheap liquor and cigarette smoke.

"_Hey_! Hands off." The other guy called. But it did nothing to stop blondie. So I did. I brought my leg up and kicked him hard in the crotch; I don't care who you are, but when you get kicked with a steel toed boot, it's gonna hurt. He stumbled backwards, but more than anything, I think I only poked the bear. He jumped up and my neck twinged from the speed and force of him backhanding me. I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay, guys like him got off on other people's weakness, so that's exactly what I wouldn't give him.

I lowered my voice so the other guy wouldn't hear. "Is that all you've got, bitch?"

His eyes got so wide, I swear, they looked like they'd pop out. Then his face turned red with either anger or embarrassment…or maybe both.

"What the hell?" The other guy stood up and ran over to us. He shoved blondie backwards with excessive force. "What part of 'hands off' wasn't clear, dumbass?" Blondie glared at me a moment longer before leaving the room. The one in the room turned around with wide worried eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, seeming honestly concerned. Probably didn't want to get in trouble for damaging the 'merchandise'. I nodded, keeping my jaw set and eyes cast to the ground since my eyes still

I whispered, "Please, let me out of here."

He backed up and shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry."

He started to walk away, towards the door and he was my last chance of getting out. "You're not a murderer." He stopped. "I can see that, you're a good person. Just got caught up in the wrong situation for whatever reason. But if you don't help me, I won't make it home to my family and I think you know that. Deep down you know that. So please-"

He shut the door. Now that I was alone, the severity of the situation hit me. I'd been kidnapped by a group of men I'd never seen before while trying to deliver a Goddamned letter. Who was this Harold Finch guy? Were these guys working for him, or for whoever was after me? I had told myself not to cry in front of the blond guy, but now that he was gone, and the other guy too, my resolve broke. A dam of tears that escaped from my eyes.

"Well, things can only go up from here." I muttered, though the feeling in my gut told me otherwise.

xXx

"They've stopped."

Reese wasted no time; he started the car and got back onto the street, following Finch's directions. They'd been waiting in the car for five hours, waiting for the kidnappers car to stop, but it hadn't.

"So they were just driving around for five hours?" Reese asked incredulously.

"No, they had a signal scrambler. Turn left." Finch said. "Probably the same one that was keeping me from accessing her GPS. Left on 3rd."

After an hour of driving, they came across a big abandoned warehouse on a less traveled road.

"I'm going in." Reese reloaded his gun, tucked it into the waistband of his slacks, tucked another gun into the holster on his ankle and went in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the wait, hectic week! But here you go!**

* * *

My foot, boot and all, slipped out of the ropes. (The blond guy had come in about an hour after I kicked him and tied my feet to the hook in the floor; I guess he didn't want a replay of getting kicked in the jewels.) It was only a small victory, since I had to get my foot up to my mouth so I could get the knife out of my boot without using my hands.

I kicked my other foot free and swung my left foot up as close to my mouth as I could get it. I used my right thigh to brace my left foot, and brought my right knee closer to my chest. It worked well enough that I could use my teeth to grasp the leather of my boot. I adjusted the position of my right knee to keep my left foot in place, and used my teeth to pull the knife out of my boot.

I would've grinned, but I didn't want to accidently drop the knife that was in my mouth. They took my gun and holster from my right ankle, but I guess they didn't think to frisk the unconscious girl for anything else after that.

After carefully shifting the knife into a better position with my tongue, I pulled myself up so I was eye level with the knot of rope holding my wrists together. Clenching my teeth down hard on the handle of the knife, I leaned forward and began to saw at the rope, silently thanking God that it was serrated.

Ten minutes into cutting through the rope, my head was pounding in my ears, my lips were cracked and bleeding, and my arms were cramping so horrifically that my whole body was shaking with the strain of keeping my weight up. I was about halfway through the rope when my arms gave out. A yelp escaped my lips as I dropped.

All my hopes crashed down around me. Or maybe that was the knife clattering to the ground. Either way, I was screwed. I fought the urge to scream in frustration. So instead, I violently thrashed my legs in total infuriation.

I heard a small rip come from above me. I looked up and smiled. The rope was tearing. That's when I heard the gunshots. Raising my legs as high as I could, I brought them down, pulling on the rope as I did so. I did that six more times before it finally snapped, dropping me to the floor with a heavy thump.

I smiled, resting for just a moment on the hard floor of the room. When I could breathe properly again, I rolled onto my knees and slid the ropes off of my hands. I winced at how raw and bloody my wrists were. By now, every part of my body was sore and protested so with every move I made.

I grabbed the knife off the ground and made a break for the exit, going as fast as my battered and exhausted body would allow. It was nothing compared to my usual speed, since I kept wobbling and stumbling over nothing, but it was at least enough to get me out of the room I was in.

I made it to the door and gave a frustrated groan upon finding it locked.

xXx

I was crawling around the air conditioning vents when I came across a vent that led to the hall outside the room I'd been tied up in. I looked out through it and saw no one. I repositioned myself and kicked the vent as hard as I could. I kicked it a few more times before it popped out.

I climbed down from the vent and as soon as my feet were planted on the ground, I looked around. I was on a platform thing that overlooked the first floor of the warehouse. From up there, I could see a few unconscious bodies and one man standing among them. He had black hair and wore a gray suit. As soon as I'd decided not to cross paths with this guy and sneak out quietly, he turned around and looked at me.

"Terra?" He called. I backed up and ran. I decided this wasn't my day because I ran straight into the arms of the Scottish guy. A yelp escaped my lips as I tried to back up. I heard him call me again, more urgent this time. "Terra!"

"Well, looks like we've got some alone time, haven't we?" He picked me up bridal style and lifted me over the railing. I grabbed onto him for dear life, seeing as though it looked to be a fifty foot drop to the first floor. My nails dug into his skin, making him curse and kick my leg. Trying to get me let go, he peeled my fingers off him. I grabbed the railing and pulled on him, yanking him down with me. What, did he expect me to just fall over the railing without a fight? But what _I_ didn't think of was that after he went over the edge, he'd cling to my leg.

It's amazing what the human body can do through. Mine had been hit over the head with a baseball bat, chloroformed, strung up for hours, strained almost every muscle so I could cut the ropes, and now it was supporting, not only _my _weight, but the weight of a man that easily had sixty pounds on me.

I gasped as something stung my hands, looking up, I could see they had started to bleed. Part of the railing had rusted away, leaving the sharp edge for me to hold on to. As the blood spread across my hands and down my wrists, I could feel my fingers slipping from the railing. I heard someone running towards me and looked up to see the man in the suit sprinting to us.

"Help!" I yelled, no longer caring that the guy in the suit had most likely killed the thugs on the first floor _singlehandedly_. I just wanted off this crazy ride I was on.

The Scottish guy yanked on my leg, he knew he wasn't gonna get back up to safety and was gonna pull me down with him. I kicked him in the face before he grabbed onto that leg too. It felt like my arms were going to pop off my body, like one of those dollar store Barbie dolls. He pulled down on my leg once more and my fingers couldn't hold on anymore. I closed my eyes and waited for the fall.

* * *

**R&R!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy!**

* * *

A strong hand gripped my left wrist, making me squeak a little. I looked up to see the man in the suit holding my arm. He took his left hand and grabbed my elbow, pulling it up to his right hand. He produced a gun from somewhere and aimed at me.

My eyes grew wide and I turned my face into my arm. But the shot went past me and hit the blond guy. I looked down and saw the angry red hole in his forehead as he plummeted down to the first floor. I looked back up at the man in the suit and willed my right arm to grasp his forearm. He took my arm so tightly; I swear I could feel his fingers on the bone. He pulled me up further and his arm went around my waist, pulling me up over the railing.

I literally couldn't move a muscle as I collapsed into the man's arms. He caught me easily and moved his arm under my knees, picking me up like the Scottish guy had only moments ago, but I felt safe in this man's arms.

As he walked out of the building, he murmured soft reassurances. "You're okay or "I've got you," over and over.

xXx

"What happened?" Finch asked, opening the door to the backseat. Reese was carrying Terra in his arms; she was shaking a little and Finch was pretty sure she was crying too, though it was hard to tell since she had her face buried in Reese's shirt. The ex-CIA man put her into the backseat of the car and pried her fingers from his suit jacket.

"It's okay, Terra." He heard Reese say to her. It struck Finch as odd; the way he was speaking to her. When he got her hands to release him, he shut the door lightly and turned to Finch. "I don't know, she was already like that when I found her. Except for her hands. That happened after she went over the edge of the railing."

"She fell over the edge of the railing?" Finch looked at her, she looked like she'd gone a few rounds with—well, Reese. There was so much blood covering her hands and forearm that he couldn't rightly conclude where it was coming from. Over her legs, were large cuts, he couldn't be sure, but Finch would've guessed that there were about twenty cuts up and down the front of her legs. Her lips were dried, cracked and bleeding and the entire left side of her head was covered in blood, a mix of older, brownish blood and newer blood, a deep red. It was disturbing to Finch that she probably had more blood _on_ her body than _in_ it.

"Well, not exactly." He looked around. "But we could talk about that later. After we get her cleaned up."

"Of course." Harold got into the passenger's seat as Reese settled into the driver's side. He sped down the road, most of which was abandoned warehouses. A few minutes down the road, Harold looked back at the girl through the mirror. "We should take her to a hospital, Mr. Reese."

"_No,_" She moaned. Reese watched her through the rearview mirror. "No, hospital…please…"

"Well, that answers that." Reese said simply.

Finch looked at him incredulously. "Mr. Reese, she's barely conscious. Hardly capable of making decisions like this. We're taking her to a hospital."

The only warning the two men got was the unbuckling of her seatbelt before she jumped out of the car.

xXx

"No," I said as loudly as I could. "No hospital…please…" The man in the suit didn't seem to be watching the road, although the car never wandered off from its path, instead his steely blue gaze was fixed on me in the rearview mirror.

"Well, that answers that." His eyes looked hard and cold. Part of me argued that it would be safer to get the heck out of the car and away from this dangerous stranger, but the other part of me retorted that there was no way in hell I could survive a fall from a moving car in its present condition.

They couldn't take me to a hospital. They couldn't do that. I looked at the man in the suit and silently pleaded with him.

"Mr. Reese, she's hardly conscious and hardly capable of making a decision like this. We are taking her to a hospital."

The second he looked away from me and to the other guy, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door in one smooth motion. Tucking my head, I rolled on the hard gravel. More than anything, I felt like lying down on the gravel road and resting, but I could hear the brakes slamming from the car I'd just jumped from. I took a breath and stood up, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head and shoulder. I vaguely registered something wet and warm on the side of my head, but ignored it as I broke into a run. My head was pounding so hard that I couldn't hear much anyway and checking behind me would only slow me down, so I concentrated on running as fast as I could.

I made it about fifty yards before I was tackled to the ground. My 5" 7" frame was nothing compared to his 6" 2" and he outweighed me by nearly forty pounds of solid muscle, judging by the firmness of his—well, everything. He lifted me up by my arm and as soon as my feet were on the solid ground, I shoved him and booked it. This time I only made it a few feet. He caught me from behind and easily subdued me by wrapping his strong arms around me, pinning mine to my sides.

"You're fast." He said quietly.

"_Help! Help me!_" I screamed. When I opened my mouth again, he placed a hand over it as he carried my thrashing body back to the car.

My captor turned me around roughly so that I was against the car and I was facing him. "Now listen to me, Terra…"

But I couldn't hear him, my thoughts were being invaded by memories I'd worked so hard to suppress. Suddenly, I could smell the cigarettes and liquor. I went into defensive mode and opened my mouth, which was under his hand and bit down as hard as I could. He yanked his hand back as I kicked at him in the crotch. As he recovered from that, I punched him and tried to claw his eyes out.

"Please don't do that." His voice was strained, no doubt as an effect of my kicking him in the nards.

But I continued to attack him. Seeming to anticipate my attacks— except for the one to his jewels— he blocked every punch and avoided every scratch. I heard the car door open and I was seated in the backseat of the car. He knelt down in front of me; he gripped my chin and tipped my head up. I moved his hands away from my face and looked at the door.

"Harold, would you mind driving?" I heard the other man say 'yes' before getting into the driver's seat. Reese scooted me to the other side of the backseat and climbed in next to me. Probably making sure I wouldn't try to jump out again. When he gave the other man the keys to the car, he brushed my arm, making a noise come from my throat that was half of a curse word and half yelp. His eyes flickered from me to my arm. "Your shoulder?"

"It's fine." I said, gripping my arm, gritting my teeth and trying to keep my tears at bay.

"I'm going to take your jacket off so I can look at your shoulder, okay?" I looked at him for a moment before nodding. He, slowly, reached for my arm and slipped my flannel shirt off my shoulder. I fought the urge to kick him…or bite him. One or the other. After a quick look at my shoulder, he looked at the man driving.

"It's dislocated." That was when my vision started to dim. One second, I was looking out the windshield, the next I was looking up at the roof of the car. Then I fell into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up in a room, it was filled with books and for a moment, I thought I might be dreaming. But the pain from my shoulder as I rolled over was definitely real. I got up from the cot-like bed and looked down at my arm. It was in a sling that was keeping it cradled against my body. The thing I noticed next stopped my heart.

I wasn't wearing my clothes.

I was wearing clothes, mind you, but not _my _clothes. I was wearing a gray t-shirt that was too big for me, definately a man's shirt, and a pair of gym shorts, also a man's. Looking down at my legs, I sat back down at the bed and rested my left leg on my right knee. All over my leg, there were medium-sized bandages on my legs. I peeled one of them off and looked at the large cut on my shin. It had two butterfly bandages on it.

Pulling the shorts up to my upper thigh, I winced. There was blood seeping through the dressing on my outer thigh. Peeling the corner of it off, I could see a large cut on my leg; the two flaps of skin had been brought together by stitches, definitely done by a doctor—or at least someone with medical knowledge.

Growing up in the country, you tend to get a little banged up, so I knew the difference between professional and homespun stitches. Pulling the material back over my leg, I walked over to the window and looked out over the city, all lit up; it was the only thing lighting the room. I only paused a moment to look at the city before continuing to find a way out. I walked out of the room I was in and out into the hall. There were even more books out there, this _had _to have been a library at one point.

I stopped at a certain shelf and knelt down. There was a hidden door in the bottom panel of the shelf. I pushed it in and it popped open, revealing several handguns, a few assault rifles and a couple of…grenades? Holy crap. Either I'd just been kidnapped (for the second time) by terrorists or crazy people. Either way I was screwed. Just to be safe, I grabbed a gun, a Glock 22, found the magazine for it and loaded it.

As quietly as I could, I shut the door and continued on into another hall. As I got down the hall, I walked into a large room, with three computers on a table. There was one of those large clear boards against the wall. My jaw dropped as I saw what was on it.

My picture.

Alongside it was my life. Literally, they had most of my life up there. My family members, birthday, ex-boyfriends, the date I got my driver's license, even the phone number for Chief Jamison. They had traced my credit cards, too. What if these were the people Chief Jamison was trying to warn me about? But then, who were my first kidnappers working for? Ugh, I could feel a headache coming on.

I heard a noise from another room and raised the gun, slowly making my way towards the sound. I walked down a hallway and went into the dark room, lit only by the small lamp in the corner of the room. A swish from behind me made me spin around and I aimed the gun at a figure, leaning against the wall.

"Whoa," the dark shadow said from in front of me. "Let's not get trigger happy." I recognized that voice, but for the life of me I didn't know where from.

When he started to walk forward, I raised the gun a bit higher. "Don't move."

"I just wanna talk-"

"And I just wanna go home but we don't we don't always get what we want, do we?" He started to move forward and I raised the gun, making a point. "Don't move or I swear, I'll shoot you."

He stopped. "Okay…But isn't it a little rude to shoot me with my own gun?" In one smooth movement, he moved forward and took the gun from my hands. I shoved him into the wall and ran for the door.

"Terra, wait." He grabbed my arm, but not roughly, if anything, he was extra gentle, not grabbing my arm, but the sleeve of the shirt. But me being me, I threw my fist back and hit him in the face. Suddenly, I got really light headed and fell back onto the couch. As I put a hand up to my head, he wiped his lip.

"Are you okay?" He asked. I stood up and tried to get to the door, but my head wasn't having it. I fell to the ground; I was breathing hard and my head was killing me. He rushed to my side and brushed the hair from my face.

"Get away from me!" I groaned, fruitlessly hitting his arm and chest. My adrenaline was pumping and I was no longer thinking rationally. All I knew was that there was a man on top of me, and he was stronger than me. I had to get out. Simple as that.

"Calm down." He ordered softly. "Let me explain-" I thrusted my head up and head-butted him. Hard. So hard that I saw white splotches in my vision for a moment. That's probably gonna be a concussion.

Now, I want to tell you right now, I'm not usually this violent but—

I pushed him off of me and stood up, picking up the glass topped table and threw it his way. It was kinda heavy, so it didn't go far and my shoulder ached badly after throwing it. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and I winced as I heard the crunch of my bottom lip. He turned around just in time and moved to the side, causing the table to hit the wall, broken glass flying everywhere.

He looked back at the glass for a second and shook his head. "Harold's not gonna be very appreciative of that."

With his back still turned to me, I jumped him, wrapping my legs around his waist and slamming him against the wall. I started hitting him on the head, shoulders, anywhere my fists could reach. We both fell to the floor with me straddling him. I punched him over and over, and soon he started blocking my punches. But he never punched back. I was starting to wonder why when the lights flicked on.

"I leave the two of you unaccompanied for one hour and you abolish this place…not to mention each other." I made the mistake of looking up and the guy under me took a hold of my wrists and kneed me in the stomach, sending me over his head and off of him. I landed on the ground a few yards from him and scurried to my feet.

Now that the light was on and I could see their faces properly, my memory returned a little. The man I'd just been fighting with was…Reese? Yeah, Reese. His lip was bleeding, leaving a trail of blood down his chin and his eyebrow and cheek had cuts as well, which were bleeding too, but not as bad as his lip. He watched me like I was some wild animal who'd been back into a corner. And I guess I was.

"Reese." His brows furrowed. I looked down at my shoulder and then at him. "I— I remember you. You helped me...at the warehouse, you saved me." Then I looked around the room, it looked like a tornado had blown through. I straightened up and sighed. "Who the hell are you guys?"

Reese watched me for a second longer before answering. "Like I was trying to explain,my name is John. This is my friend-"

"Harold Finch." The other man interrupted. My jaw dropped and I was stunned into silence. But only for a moment. After my moment of silence, I started laughing. Not just a laugh, but the uncontrollable, side crippling, pee-your-pants laughter. I leaned back against the wall and lowered myself to the floor laughing. "Just how hard did you hit her, Mr. Reese?"

John's response made me laugh even harder. "She started it. Besides, she's the one who head-butted me."

I shook my head, trying to tell them why I was laughing, but I couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell them. "N-No," I managed to get out. I took a calming breath and started again. "No. It's just that…Well, you're the person I've been looking for." They gave me a strange look. Probably thought I was delusional. How the hell was I gonna explain this? "I have a letter for you, Mr. Finch."


	8. Chapter 8

After John and Harold led me back to the room I'd woken up in and turned on the light, John handed me a bag, it had my shoes, socks, and my jacket; the clothes I had worn the day I was kidnapped. I pulled out my jacket and removed the letter from the buttoned pocket.

I couldn't believe it. After travelling across the country and getting kidnapped, I wind up getting rescued by the very man I'd come to New York to find. If I didn't believe in fate before…

Now that I could see better, seeing as how this room had better lighting than the previous one, I could see Harold as he limped to the table; he was about 5"9" and wore a brown three-piece suit that seemed expensive, tailored to fit him perfectly. His features were sharp behind his small framed glasses but his eyes seemed familiar to me somehow. I was curious about why he was limping, but my mom always taught me that people already have noses; they don't need someone else's in their business.

I got a better look at John, too. He was tall, my best guess about 6"2" with black hair that was beginning to gray at his temples. His dark blue eyes seemed to stare right inside and know what my deepest darkest secrets were, no matter how bad or scary they were. The intensity of his gaze made me blush. John took a seat next to Harold. After a moment, a look crossed his face, one that I couldn't place. Kind of confused, like when you can't remember something.

I looked down at the envelope and ran my fingers over mom's beautiful handwriting. I felt a little reluctant to give it to him. I'd been carrying the letter with me for a while; it almost felt like having a piece of mom here with me. After a moment, I handed Harold the letter.

"Natalie," He murmured. "Natalie…" I furrowed my brow and watched his expression as he looked at his name on the envelope. He ran his fingers over it like I had only moments ago. A pained expression crossed his features. He looked up at me slowly. "Do you know Natalie Jenkins?"

I blinked in surprise and nodded slowly. "I'm her daughter." I answered, weighing his surprised reaction. "Jenkins was my mom's maiden name. She changed it to Matthews." I'd never seen Harold before in my life and mom had never mentioned him, so how did he know her maiden name? He smiled and took another look at the envelope before looking back at me.

"You have her eyes…and her necklace." My hand instantly flew to the necklace around my neck. It was a small heart-shaped stone hanging from a thin leather band.

"Why didn't she just send this to me?" From the corner of my eye, I could see John watching us with an intrigued expression.

"My mother—" I swallowed hard as a lump appeared in my throat. "It was my mom's last request that I hand deliver this to you."

"Last request." Harold's voice dropped an octave as he spoke. Then he was nearly whispering. "She's… she's dead."

Despite how calm I tried to look, a tear tracked its way down my cheek. I brushed at it angrily. Thinking about mom was hard enough, talking about her was going to be torture. I wasn't an idiot though, I figured it was coming.

xXx

"So," She said slowly, taking a seat across from them. "You just going to stare at the letter or are you gonna read it? My mom told me not to leave until you did, so…" She let her voice trail off as she looked at Harold.

Something about this didn't sit well with John. The girl looked familiar, but at the same time, he knew he'd never seen her before. Then there was her mother. Obviously Harold had known this girl's mother, been close to her, but how? And how did Terra's number coming up fit into…He stifled a smile as the pieces started coming together and wondered if Harold had a clue.

"So," John said, taking quick glances out at Harold. "What's in the letter?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea what's in the letter. I didn't read it."

"Really?" He asked.

"My mom never invaded my privacy." She said, he noted how her eyes got hard when she spoke of her mother. "So I thought she merited her own."

John smiled. She even spoke a little like Harold.

Harold read the first line before standing up and excusing himself. Terra started to rise too, but when he looked pointedly at Reese, he grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back down. As Harold limped out the door and to the other room, Terra looked at Reese and opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her.

"Just give him a minute." As he looked at her, he noticed that her jaw was clenched and there was a defensive glare in her eyes. He released her arm. "Sorry."

She nodded. Looking down, she indicated to the baggy clothes on her body. "Yours?"

"Yeah." He folded his hands on the table. "Yours were a bit…torn up."

She pulled her legs up so her knees were against her chest. "What happened? At the warehouse?"

He scrunched his brow. "You don't remember?" She shook her head.

He cleared his throat. "I think Harold would be better suited to explain."

She regarded him for a moment before nodding. She looked down at her legs and back at him. "Who…who—" She indicated to the bandages on her legs.

Reese noted how she had protectively wrapped her arms around her legs, and how she avoided eye contact with him. He knew he could be intimidating, but there seemed to be something else bothering her. "Dr. Tillman, a friend of mine, she patched you up. Since you wouldn't go to a hospital."

She cast her eyes to the ground and narrowed them, trying to recall what he was talking about. "Oh yeah…" She cracked a smile. "Sorry about kickin' you in the nards."

He gave her a half-smile. "Don't worry about it."

xXx

Seating himself in his computer chair, Harold pulled out the letter and continued to read it.

_My Dearest Harold,_

_It's funny how facing your own death can change things. I know I'm dying and there are just certain things I can't leave undone. So even though this is probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, I had to confess the truth. It hurt when you stopped answering my calls and e-mails, and stopped coming around, but I now understand that you were doing what you thought was best for both of us. And I hope you can believe that that was all I was trying to do._

_A few weeks after we decided we were better as friends than lovers, I started feeling sick. Imagine my surprise when I found out I was pregnant._

_You might not want to hear this, and you're probably not going to believe it, but it's the truth. Terra is your daughter. She was born seven months after our last meeting and I was too much of a coward to tell you. Terra is my light and with all the darkness I faced on the force on a daily basis, I needed a little light_ _in my life. I tried very hard to keep her safe, taking her out to live in the country, away from the negative influences, and dangerous situations but she gets her stubbornness and curiosity from me and, of course, her brains from her father. So naturally, she gets into trouble a lot. Once she sets her mind to something she never gives up, just like you. But I'm losing my train of thought here._

_One thing I want you to know is that I agonized for years over whether I should tell her about you or not, but eventually I decided it was for everyone's benefit. I know I hurt Terra when I refused to tell her who her father was. But honestly I was trying to protect her. I wanted to keep her away from you, and your work, for as long as I could. I suppose I was protecting myself in a way too. I couldn't bear to see the look of pain in your eyes when you found out I lied to you._

_Since you're reading this, that means I lost this fight. It also means that I left my— our, baby girl alone in this big world. That's why I sent her to you. She needs to know she's not alone. I know our daughter, Harold, now that I'm gone; she's gonna be a little lost for a while. Please, keep an eye on her for me, Harold. I want to see her again, just not any time soon._

_She can take care of herself, I've taught her how to shoot a gun and my brother gave her some pointers on fighting from his time in the military. She's fairly self-reliant, very intelligent and very curious. _

_My last request to you is that you try to get to know our daughter. I know that if you do, you'll come to love her as much as I do. And don't worry, Harold, I have a feeling that she's gonna love you._

_I love you Harold, always have._

_Always yours, _

_Natalie Matthews_

For what seemed like an eternity, Harold sat in his chair staring at the words on the page. Emotions flooded over him. Finally he folded the letter and pushed it back into the envelope.

Taking a calming breath, he pushed himself up from the chair and walked calmly back to the other room, hoping Terra and John hadn't killed each other yet. They seemed to have a knack for getting into altercations that tended to get physical.

Clearing his throat he moved into the room and dropped the letter on the table. "I have a couple of questions for you."

The girl nodded and then swallowed hard, steeling herself for what she knew was coming. John moved to get up and give them some privacy but Harold waved his hand at him and sat down across from his…daughter. John had become just as much Harold's family as Terra was. He gestured towards the letter. "You don't know what that letter says?"

Terra shook her head. "I didn't read it. It wasn't my place."

He wasn't sure how he was going to break the news to her so he stalled. Picking up the letter again he stared at his name on the front, not realizing a small smile spread across his lips. "Your mother and I…we were close once. We had a…falling out, of sorts." He sighed. "I suppose you could say that your mother had a few things left unsaid. That's why she wrote me a letter." He paused for a minute and then took a deep breath. "Terra…what do you know about your father?"

Both men saw the instant change in Terra's demeanor. She tensed up immediately and glared at Harold, tilting her head up slightly. "No offense, but I don't see why that's any of your business."

"Humor me." For a minute John thought Terra was going to tell Harold to go screw himself, so she surprised him when she started talking. And surprising Reese that wasn't an easy thing to do.

"Not a lot. My Uncle Dave told me a few things about him. He was some really smart guy. Mom knew him for a year or two before I was born." Terra shrugged before sighing softly. "Why does that matter?"

Harold nodded before folding his hands in front of him on the table. Harold glanced at Reese, who was looking at the girl sitting across from them and back to Harold. A ghost of a smile played at his lips as he nodded at Finch, who sighed. How Reese had already figured it out was beyond him.

As Finch spoke of how he'd first met the girl's mother, John took the opportunity to evaluate the daughter of Harold Finch. On the surface, Terra looked like a normal young woman. Her hair was long and wavy; the darkness of her hair only made her tanned skin look even darker. But when he looked closer at her green eyes he could see the intelligence and curiosity lurking behind them, just like her father.

She was well-built almost statuette like, she had curves but at the same time she was also feminine looking. John observed that it was more in the way she held herself than the way her body was built. She sat up straight, with great posture, and her hands folded in her lap. When he really looked closely, he could see a light resemblance to Finch. It was around the mouth mostly, though it also had something to do with the expressions she made as well.

"I guess there really is no easy way to say this. But….Terra….I…I'm your father."


	9. Chapter 9

"I guess there really is no easy way to say this. But….Terra….I…I'm your father."

There was a deafening silence at the table; the only noise was that of the city. Terra stared at the letter on the table while Harold looked at her and John glanced between father and daughter. Harold handed her the letter and she picked it up, unfolded and read it.

After a good five minutes of silence, Terra cracked a half-smile and nodded. She looked up at her…father. "I'll admit, it crossed my mind. That's the only reason I could fathom for my mom to send me across the country to hand deliver a friggin' letter."

She was quiet for a while before she ran her hand through her hair, sighing heavily. She looked to the door and cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

Without another word, she stood up and walked out the door. Finch started to rise, but Reese put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me talk to her, Finch. No offense, but I think the last person she'd want to talk to is you."

"She doesn't know New York, John. She could get lost outside-"

"I'll find her. She's gonna need a little time to think." He stood up and walked to the door. Before going through it, he turned back to Finch, who had removed his glasses and was currently pinching the bridge of his nose. "And I suggest you do the same."

Reese followed her shadow down the hall. She was looking for the way out, but she was at a disadvantage: She didn't know this place. He followed her until she was at the end of a hall, where he leaned against the wall as she tried to open a locked door.

"That's not the exit." He said softly.

She spun around and threw her arms in the air. "Then where the _hell_ is it?"

He narrowed his ice blue eyes and tried to determine if he should oblige her or not. He nodded and held up one finger. "I'll tell you. One condition."

She rolled her eyes. "What?"

"I'm coming with you." She looked at him unsurely for a second and he realized that he hadn't properly introduced himself yet. He extended his hand. "I'm John."

She sighed and shook his hand once. "Terra." They started to walk down the hall when she stopped. Reese turned and looked at her to find her looking down at his over-sized t-shirt she was wearing. "Maybe I could change first."

xXx

After Terra changed into jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt, the two left the library and began walking down the street, going nowhere in particular. He looked down at her every once and a while, she fiddled with the necklace at the base of her throat while her brows scrunched together over her green eyes, which were glued to the ground in front of her. After ten minutes of silence between them, only the frequent honking of cars speeding by, she broke the silence.

"A part of me wants to hate her for this." John looked down at her. "My mom. It sounds horrendous, but it's true. She knew all along whom, not to mention _where_ my father was, and kept it from me my whole life. That's not fair, is it?"

He was quiet for a while. Uncrossing his arms he contemplated his answer for a moment. "No…it wasn't. But people tend to do unexplainable things when it comes to those they love. And she obviously loved you or she wouldn't have gone to such trouble to protect you. Whether it was the right thing to do or not, she was doing what was best for you."

She looked at him for a moment. He had a point, and he knew she didn't want to listen to it. She wanted to be angry at someone, she wanted to blame someone. He wasn't surprised to find her eyes beginning to water.

"This thoroughly and totally blows." She was speaking more to herself than to him so she was slightly surprised when he answered.

"It blows major ass." John smiled when she stopped and looked at him in surprise and shrugged. "What? I'm just agreeing with you."

Shaking her head she chuckled softly and crossed her arms over her chest, continuing her earlier pace. Reese followed her as she wandered down the street. "It's just…I had this picture in my head, you know? Of my father. And this was definitely not it."

"What was it?" His question earned him a sharp glance and John just raised his hands in innocence. He was aware of how defensive he sounded. But he was curious about what she'd pictured.

"Well, it certainly wasn't that." She pointed behind her. "That's for sure. My picture was more… asshole-ish, I suppose. I mean, I always assumed that he left us because he wanted to. Not because he didn't know. I just thought that he didn't want us. He didn't want…me."

"I know this is a lot to handle," He told her truthfully. "But Harold is a good guy, inside and out. And if he had known about you, I have no doubt he would have moved Heaven and Hell to be in your life. If he had known, he would have fought for you. He doesn't leave friends behind. He's saved my life many times."

She stopped walking and looked up at him. "Really?" He nodded. Terra looked at him a moment longer, before looking away and taking a deep breath, running her hands over her face. "I'm sorry for unloading on you. I—"

"It's fine. It's a lot to process." He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the grumbling of her stomach. He smiled as a blush rose to her cheeks. "You gonna answer that?" She spun on her heel and started to walk. He followed, trying not to laugh and make her embarrassment worse. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

She shrugged. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

"Really? Wow. Two days, then."

He raised his brows. "Well that's unacceptable. I know a nice little diner that's pretty close. Interested?"

xXx

"So," She said slowly, trying to start a conversation to fill the awkward silence. Terra and John were sitting in a booth at a small diner. "How do you know Harold?"

His hard blue eyes gazed up from his coffee to her and she suddenly wished she hadn't said anything. She started blushing again as he spoke. "We work together."

His tone told her that was all he was going to say. "Oh." She nodded slowly and peered down into her cup of cocoa.

Suddenly, she felt someone looking at her. Terra's cheeks got warm as a blush crept up her face. She looked up at Mr. Reese, only to find that he was watching her.

"What?"

He tilted his head slightly and an excruciatingly long, silent moment later he answered. "Do you know who kidnapped you?"

The bell above the diner door rang sharply, making her jump out of her skin. She looked up, to see a young couple holding hands as they sat at a booth.

"No." She recalled the phone call from Chief Jamison a while back, how he'd said someone was after her, but she wasn't sure who this guy was. She knew he was nice, definitely dangerous, but trustworthy? She didn't know. She pulled her hands into her lap. "Shouldn't we go to the cops? I mean, I was kidnapped for shit's sake!"

"Thing about the cops here," He said, glancing at a uniformed cop at the counter. "Not all of them are clean."

Her jaw dropped. "Seriously?" She took his silence as a yes. "Then what do we do? I mean, you took out the guys at the warehouse, but you said they were just hired guns. That means there's still someone out there who wants me dead! Which is completely crazy, I've done nothing _that _bad to anyone, nothing bad enough to make someone want to kill me. I mean, I know a few people who might wanna land a few punches, but not kill me! What if—"

"Terra." One word. One word left his mouth and she shut up. It made her heart ache a little. Her mom used to use that tone with her when she started babbling. That _exact _tone. It was spooky, really. "You're right. Whoever wants you is still out there. And Harold and I are trying to find out who. But until then, know that you're safe with me. Do you believe me?"

She could only nod.

"Good." He smiled lightly as the waitress arrived with their food. He waited until she'd gone back behind the counter before continuing. "Think, Terra, is there anyone who had a grudge against you? Or possibly your mom?"

She thought hard, tearing a french fry in half, mindlessly. "Yes. Well, no, I don't know. Chief Jamison, he was my mom's boss, he called me a few days ago. I was in a motel. He told me that someone had been released…and they were coming for me."

John leaned forward. "Who?"

"I don't know. He was breaking up and that was all I could get before the line went dead." She popped a french fry into her mouth. "I tried to call him back later that day, but he didn't pick up." She was quiet for a moment as a smile crossed her lips, recalling a fond memory. "You know, my mom never wanted me to learn how to shoot a gun. Chief Jamison's the one who convinced her. He's like an uncle to me."

John smiled as her mind took her back to that happy memory. He remained quiet, letting her have a moment of happiness. He looked out at the window, scanning the street for anyone suspicious.

"H-Hey, Mr. Reese?" He looked away from the window and at her. Her eyes were brimming with tears and she had her hand clasped around her necklace so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. "Chief Jamison, he didn't answer my call. Do you think—"

He reached across the table and covered her other hand with his own, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he's fine."

She looked down at his hand for a moment and back up at him, trying to match his smile (but she didn't succeed). "Right. He's fine."

But she wasn't so sure.


	10. Chapter 10

Finch folded his hands on the table. "Natalie, she never once mentioned me?"

After they'd finished their meal, Reese had brought the girl back to the library so she and Finch could talk some more.

Terra shook her head. "A few times. She said you were good to her. Nothing else. It didn't stop me from asking, but when I was twelve, I could tell it hurt her when I asked. So I stopped."

Finch copied the teen as he shook his own head. How could you not talk about your child's father? Surely Natalie would've told her _something_? He let out a long sigh. Finch looked at her. This matter had to be settled and there was no pretty way to go about it. "Terra, would you object to a DNA test?"

John raised his brows, surprised that Harold's mind was even clear enough to think of a DNA test. Expecting the girl to be offended, John waited for the explosion but Terra just smiled.

"Well, hell." She said, looking amused. "Maybe we are related. I was just gonna ask you the same thing."

"Well," John stood up. "Why don't you two go in the morning? Give Terra a chance to rest a bit."

Finch agreed and told her that he would set her up in hotel for the night. She refused, saying that she could pay for her own room. Harold smiled when she said that, she sounded so much like her mother, always so self-reliant. If she was any more like her mother, he had a feeling that she wouldn't be easily swayed from her decision.

As the three of them reached the top of the staircase, Terra stopped and turned to John. After a moment, he looked at her questioningly. She glanced at Harold and back quickly. He received her silent message and nodded slightly.

"Well," He said, jingling the keys in his hand. "I'm gonna go start the car." As he walked down the stairs, Reese felt a little uneasy about leaving Harold with someone that dangerous, but he knew he'd have to get used to it, DNA test or no, he could tell that Harold's daughter would be around for a while.

When Reese was halfway down the stairs, Terra swallowed nervously. She had wanted to talk to Mr. Finch about something else. "Actually, my mom did say something else concerning you."

"Oh?" Harold waited as she fiddled with her mother's necklace.

She nodded. "My middle name? Robin. She said she picked the name in your honor. She told me you liked birds, Robins were your favorite."

"Yes." Harold smiled fondly and nodded once. "Still are, in fact. You know, each Robin has a distinct pattern, each one special. Such beautiful creatures," He paused for a moment and Terra wondered if that was it, if she should just head out. Just as she was about to say goodbye, he spoke. "The name fits."

A blush made its way up her cheeks as she smiled. She thanked him and said goodnight, heading to the door. she looked over her shoulder and waved goodbye before heading out the door, meeting Reese outside.

John gave her a ride to the hotel, which, he noted, wasn't that great. As he drove her to the front, she got her bag from the backseat and made her way to the strange man at the desk. When he looked Terra up and down, Reese pondered on staying there, to watch over her. The manger watched her as she left the office; like she was a piece of meat. John felt his blood boil. He knew he wasn't leaving her here on her own.

John drove the car behind the motel, got out and walked to the front desk. As the man gave him a key, he caught a look at his nametag. _Martin._

John got a room a few doors from Terra's and settled in, keeping the curtains open just enough to see the door to the check-in desk. After calling Finch and letting him know what was going on, Reese made another call.

_"Whatever it is, I really can't leave. I have a mountain of paperwork and—"_

"Lucky for you, Carter, this doesn't require you to leave." He looked at his watch. "Oh, and it's six-thirty."

He could practically see her roll her eyes. _"What is now, John?" _

"I need some information on a man named Martin." He gave her the address of the motel and waited as she looked him up.

_"Okay, I've got him." _She paused as she read through the information. _"Martin White, motel clerk for six months. He's an ex-con."_

"Convictions?"

_"Where to start? Assault, rape, attempted manslaughter…the list goes on and on."_

"Thanks, Carter." He abruptly hung up, settled in one of the chairs by the window and kept his trained eye on the door to the office.

xXx

Once inside her room, Terra locked the door behind her and turned on the shower, and as the water got hot, she locked the door and propped a chair under the handle. She took her duffel bag in the bathroom with her, locking that door too as she showered, leaving her cell phone on the bathroom counter, just in case.

After her shower, Terra changed into a pair of pajama pants and a clean white tank top and settled into the bed. She took out a framed picture of her mother and set it onto her nightstand.

"He seems nice." She whispered. "But if he's so nice, why wouldn't you talk about him? What's so dangerous about him that you had to hide him from me?"

She didn't even know she was tired, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she was out like a light.

* * *

**Sorry it's short, been a busy little bee! I'll make up for it in the next chapter. R&R!**


	11. Chapter 11

Terra walked down the street, Harold walked next to her. They were headed back to the library to wait for the test results.

Terra seemed not to notice the way people were looking at them and Harold pretended not to notice. They seemed to be looking mainly at Terra with her badly beaten face. Since the previous night, the left side of her face, from the corner of her eye to her ear, was mostly black, thanks to the baseball bat. She also had a nice shiner from the Scottish guy and her lips were split in several places. Not to mention that half of her body was covered in dark bruises, although most of those were covered by her jacket.

Harold and Terra had sat in a café for about an hour before beginning the walk back to the library. They'd filled up that hour with talk of music, movies and books. Mostly books. They spoke of their favorites; Harold's being War and Peace, and The Sound and the Fury. Terra's favorites were Of Mice and Men and The Scarlet Letter.

They reached the library and continued to talk. Ten minutes later, Reese walked in. He was glad to see them talking and judging by their smiles, it was going well. He stood by the doorway and winced as he looked at Terra. She was in a black tank top that left her arms bare, exposing quite a few black and blue bruises on her arms and her wrists, thanks to being rubbed raw by the rope, were each wrapped with gauze.

"I love Stephen King's books but they freak me out." She said with a laugh.

Harold chuckled. "And yet you still read them."

"Hey, Stephen King's a mastermind at writing; he's just crazy and demented." Terra justified. She spotted John out of the corner of her eye. "Hello, Mr. Reese."

"Call me John. You sound too much like Harold when you call me Mr. Reese." He joked with a light smile. "How are you healing up?"

She looked down at her arms and scrunched up her nose. After a moment, she looked up at him and shrugged. "They look worse than they feel. Besides, this is nothin'. My friend Jessie got attacked by a bear once. Still missin' part of his ear."

At the word 'bear', the canine's head rose from its resting place on his paws, walked over to Terra and nudged her leg with his nose. Due to the bruises on her leg, she winced a little, but it was gone as soon as it came. But Bear, being sensitive to humans, and John, being an ex-CIA agent, both noticed it.

"Legen." Bear lay down as soon as the command left his alpha's mouth.

She looked up at Reese, bemused. "Was that Dutch?"

A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Yes it was."

"I thought so," She looked down at the dog and smiled. "Schütteln." Bear sat up and lifted his paw, resting it in her lowered hand. She grinned at him and awarded him with praises and a good scratching behind his ear.

"You speak German?" Harold asked, smiling as he watched Terra and Bear play.

She shook her head. "Oh no. I just saw a thing on animal planet, where they were training dogs. They used a lot of German commands. I learned them, thinking maybe I could try to teach Axel somethin' other than 'play dead'.

"Axel?"

"Axel's my Uncle Dave's bloodhound." Bear came bounding over with a tennis ball, and dropped it onto her lap. She chuckled and threw the ball; it bounced across the room and hit the wall, sending it down the hall. Bear barked as he ran after it. Before long, Bear came back with it, and dropped it into his bed in favor of picking up a stuffed rabbit. He came back and, keeping hold if the rabbit's ears, laid the other half on her lap. She grabbed it and he instantly started pulling.

After a few minutes of tug-of-war, Terra moved the 'war' away from the expensive computers and into the hall. When she left the room, John seized the opportunity to ask few questions…well, one in particular.

"Have the DNA results come back?"

"No, Mr. Reese, not yet. But, I have a feeling I already know what the test results will disclose." Finch answered, pushing a business card towards Reese. "But in the meantime, I've arranged for Terra to stay at a more secure hotel until we find out who is trying to kidnap her. Would you drive her there?"

"I've been meaning to ask." Reese took the card, but didn't look at it. "Are you going to tell Terra about-"

"No." Finch replied instantaneously. He was going to keep Terra away from the Machine for as long as possible. "You should get going." When he noticed that Reese was still there, Finch turned to him questioningly.

Reese leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She'll figure it out, Finch, you know that. You can't keep her in the dark forever. She's a smart girl. Like her father."

"And just as curious like her mother." Finch answered, looking concerned. "But hopefully not too smart for her own good. Let me worry about this. You should go."

John stood up, put on his jacket and grabbed Terra's. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to try to talk to the courthouse in Burbank again." Finch responded. "See about getting that sealed file unsealed."

"Why don't you just ask her about it?"

"I did." Finch said curtly. "She's exceptionally good at changing the subject. So I deduced that she didn't want to talk about it."

"Call me crazy, Finch," Reese said, walking out of the room. "But I don't think snooping around is the best way to earn your newfound daughter's trust."

xXx

Reese pulled up in front of Terra's motel room and got out of the car with her as she walked to the room. He waited by the car as she gathered her things. From the corner of his eye, John saw Martin, the motel clerk, hobbling into the office on crutches. A glare covered the ex-CIA agent's features as he thought of their encounter the previous night; when Martin had Terra's room key in his hand as he walked past Reese's window. They had a conversation—a short one—before Martin decided to try to land a punch. Bad idea.

"What's wrong?" Terra's worried voice called him back to the present. She had her bag slung over her shoulder as she looked around the parking lot.

He softened his glare and shook his head. "Nothing."

A sharp gasp came from behind them. Terra whirled around to see the guy from the front desk standing next to his car. His wide eyes stared at Reese as his face got pale. He got his crutches into the car and got in, starting it and peeling out of the parking lot.

When Terra looked back at John, that cold glare was back on his face. "What was that about?"

"I have no idea." She raised a brow at him, producing a small smile on his face. That expression was one he'd seen several times before on Harold's face when he knew John was lying. He took her bag, put it into the trunk and walked around to the driver's side. "You ready?"

xXx

After leaving the motel, Reese drove her to the new hotel. He chuckled as her jaw dropped. The hotel was a five-star place, and Harold had bought out the whole 3rd floor, even though she'd only be staying in the one room. Before returning to the library, he gave her a burner phone to replace her own, his and Harold's numbers were the only ones programmed into the phone. Upon returning to the library, he walked in to see a very frustrated Finch, on the phone, rubbing his temples.

"I understand that, miss, but I need that record…Yes, I understand what a 'sealed record' means, but—" Finch sighed, looking very distraught. "Fine. My apologies, Ms. Burke, but I do not have time for this." He turned to his computer and began typing at lightning speed. "If you'll look at your screen, you'll see that your cursor is moving on its own. That would be me hacking into your network. And now I have that file. Thank you Ms. Burke."

Reese chuckled and raised his brows. "What was that about?"

Finch looked at the other man, clearly exasperated. "Ms. Burke at the courthouse is the most ill-mannered woman I've ever had the displeasure of speaking to." He turned back to the computer. "Besides, the key to finding out who is trying to kidnap my daughter may be in that record."

Reese smiled. "Your daughter?"

"Oh," Finch said from his seat. "Dr. Tillman called a few minutes after you left with the results of the DNA test."

"Well, I wish I would've known," John said as Finch stood up. "I would've brought cigars."

Finch chuckled as the files began to print and Harold walked to the kitchen to get a cup of tea. Reese stood up and walked to the printer, taking out the first few pages and scanning over them.

"Well, well," He said quietly. "I think we might have a suspect, Finch." He handed the papers, still warm from the printer, to Harold after he set down his mug. "Have a look."


	12. Chapter 12

"If she refused to speak about it before, what makes you think she'll want to now?" Finch asked as they walked down the street, on the way to the hotel where Terra was staying.

Reese shrugged. "We'll think of something." After a couple blocks, a question came to mind. "Are you going to tell her—"

"That I am, indeed, her father?" Finch finished. Reese nodded. "We'll have a discussion about the sealed file. Then, if the timing is appropriate, I'll talk to her about it."

After reading through the sealed file, Reese said that they should talk to her about it. And although Finch highly doubted that the girl would want to, Reese seemed adamant about talking to her about this. After walking several blocks, they turned into the front doors of the hotel. A quiet ride up the elevator and walk down the hall when they stopped outside Terra's room.

Reese's keen senses picked up on something...wrong. A feeling, almost like a sixth sense, that alerted him to danger. He put an arm out, stopping Harold from moving forward to knock on the door and pulled out his gun. Ever so quietly, he turned the door knob and moved soundlessly into the room. He opened the closet door; gun raised and moved on when he found nothing there. He walked into the living room and into the kitchen. There was a bowl of popcorn sitting on the counter next to the microwave.

"She couldn't have gotten far!" Harold started to move towards the door when Reese called him back.

"Finch," He put the gun away. "She's still here."

"How do you know?"

He pointed to the kitchen. "The popcorn on the counter. It's still hot…plus, this room is on the third floor. There's only one door out of here and you bought out the whole floor."

Harold looked around the room and peeked into the bed room, but she was nowhere to be seen. He looked to Reese questioningly. In response, Reese looked around the kitchen, living room and bedroom. Walking into the bathroom, he half expected her to jump out of the shower and attack him, but she wasn't there either. Returning to the living room, his trained eye scanned the room. He dismissed the usual hiding spots: under the bed or couch, etc. he knew that she wouldn't hide there. Not if she thought they were the people who kidnapped her.

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Reese brought it to his ear as he looked around. "Where are you?"

"_I think someone's in my room!_" He heard her whisper-yell.

"Yes. There is." He said. "Now where are you?"

_"I'm—wait…is it _you_ in my room?"_

He cracked a smile. "Yes. It is." She abruptly hung up and moments later, she walked through the door, looking more than a bit disheveled.

"You couldn't call first?" She said, tossing her room key onto the counter. "You guys scared the crap outta me!"

Finch scrunched his brow. "How…where were you?"

"The room next door." She said catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. As she tried to smooth down her hair, Reese shook his head.

"Did you scale the wall?" He asked incredulously.

"Well…yeah." She looked down at her hands, which were red and scratched up. She looked up at the two men's incredulous looks. "What?! I'm not about to get kidnapped again. Not if I have any say in it."

Chuckling, Reese sat down in the chair next to the couch. Finch and Terra sat too, with Terra sitting in the middle of them.

"So…" She asked, sitting criss-cross on the couch cushion. "What's up?"

The two men exchanged looks before Reese leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "There's something we need to know. It might be the answer to who is trying to kidnap you, Terra."

She nodded. "Of course. If it means I can go outside without feeling paranoid, then of course I'll do what I can to help."

"Good." He leaned back. "Who is Jeffery Luwer?"

Finch instantly noticed the change in her demeanor, her face paled and her breathing halted before coming back out shaky. Reese noticed her arms cross in front of her stomach, like she felt sick as she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

"Why…" She swallowed hard and tried again. "Where did you hear that name?"

"We did some digging." Reese said nonchalantly, ignoring the glare she sent his way.

"We think Jeffery Luwer is the one who has been trying to kidnap you." Finch said calmly, assessing his daughter's reaction. "But for some reason, there was only a part of the file at the courthouse."

"T-That's impossible. _Jeff_," She took a breath. "He's in jail."

Reese shook his head. "We have to consider everything, Terra."

Terra was quiet for a long time as she gathered her thoughts. "It's not him. It's impossible." She said meekly.

"Nonetheless," Finch answered just as quietly. "We need to know what happened."

She nodded absentmindedly. "I've always liked to write. I lovedwriting so much in high school; my English teacher suggested I write for the school paper. People seemed to like what I wrote and it was great for a while. Until my English teacher had us write an article. It was supposed to be on something that was happening locally and we'd have to do a little digging on it too, you know, like a real reporter. Whoever had the most intriguing would win some awesome prize. Most of the class did their reports on the new animal shelter opening down the street, or something minimal like that. I guess my topic wasn't as… conventional."

"What was your article about?" Finch asked.

"Steroid use within our school's football team." She chuckled dryly. "If I had known the 'prize' was going to be having our paper published in the newspaper, I never would've…well, my teacher thought it'd be best if the author of the paper was anonymous, for obvious reasons, but it didn't matter in the end."

"What happened?" Reese asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"My article caught the school board's eye and they launched a full investigation. The football team got pissed." She said simply. "Half of the first string got kicked off the team. Mostly because they refused to take the tests."

"And they traced the article back to you." Finch guessed.

"They made my life a living hell. Threatening notes in my locker, slashed tires, spray paint on my car, eggs splattered on my house. There was even one instance where I found a dead rat on my doorstep." She sighed. "My school was _very_ into football."

"What about your teachers?" Finch inquired. "Didn't they do anything to stop it?"

She shrugged. "Most of the teachers at Washington High were big fans of our school's football team, too. So it was no big surprise that I started getting lower grades after the article came out. Even the teachers were against me, except for Mr. Ross…my English teacher. He watched out for me when the threatening notes began. Let me stay in his class until my mom came to pick me up."

Harold furrowed his brow. "What about your mom? She was a police officer—"

Both Reese and Terra answered at the same time. "No evidence."

Terra continued. "My mom did everything she could. She bought me a car alarm, set up cameras at our house, but it continued. That's we went to stay with my uncle. I finished high school online and got a job at the animal shelter. After a year, most people had let it go—"

"Except Jeffery Luwer." Reese said.

"Except Jeff." She confirmed. "All of this should've been in the file, why are you asking about it?"

"Because a lot of the file was redacted. Names, dates, just about everything had been redacted." Reese answered. "We only got Jeff's name because of the restraining order your mom filed."

"Redacted?" Reese handed her the file they'd printed off. She flipped through the pages with a furrowed brow. Over half of the words on the document were blacked out. "Unbelievable."

"Do you know how this might have happened?" Finch asked.

She nodded. "I'll get to that in a minute. It looks like most everything about Jeff was blacked out." She gave the papers back to Reese and filled them in. "Jeff was the star quarterback on the team, his whole future was riding on his football scholarship. But when my article came out, he was one of the players that refused to take the test, so he was automatically cut from the team. He never got over it. He was the main instigator when people were harassing me. But he didn't stop when I switched schools, he'd follow me. Like everywhere. At first I thought it was just a coincidence, running into him once and a while. But after a week or two, I realized he was following me. And when I started looking for him, I realized he was _everywhere_ I went; the gas station, library, grocery store, I mean everywhere."

"That's when your mom filed the restraining order?" Reese asked.

She nodded. "It was better than what my uncle suggested. Dave's plan was dropping Jeff off in The Lut desert in Iran."

Reese chuckled quietly. The Lut desert was the hottest desert on earth, getting up to 159° F. That sounded like something he'd probably consider. He looked to Terra as she continued.

"Mom was worried about my safety, there were rumors going around that Jeff was so upset about losing his football scholarship that he started getting into some pretty heavy drugs, so she filed it, but it didn't stop him. He was just sneakier about how he followed me." Terra pulled her knees to her chest as she continued. "A few weeks later, my tire blew out and I had to walk home. He attacked me as I passed an alley. I could've handled him easily if he hadn't knocked me over the head with a 2x4. I guess someone had seen him grab me and called the police. He beat me up even after I was unconscious. Next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital."

Finch remembered this from his initial search on her. He looked over at her and drew his brows together in concern. She was beginning to look sick as she continued. "He took my purse and I was unconscious when they brought me in, I had no ID and I couldn't tell them who I was, so the hospital had me as a Jane Doe. After surgery—"

"Surgery?" Reese asked.

She nodded. "When he was kicking me, Jeff injured my liver, causing exsanguination, hence the surgery. The doctors said if someone hadn't have called the 911 when they did, I could've died." There was a long pause as her stomach felt sicker and sicker. "I woke up alone, and scared. I didn't know where I was, how I got there, only that the last thing I remembered was being attacked."

"The doctors came in after they caught me wondering the halls. They checked my vitals and told me what had happened. The police came after that and took my statement. I told them who it was, they arrested him, and now he's in jail. Aside from my testimony, there was a camera nearby that sealed his fate. So you see, it couldn't have been him."

Reese and Finch exchanged a look and it didn't go unnoticed by the teen. "What? What was that look?"

Finch cleared his throat. "That camera footage? It was recently discovered that it was tampered with. It was enough to release him.

"Terra, he's out."


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter posted! Have had serious writer's block :( Enjoy!**

* * *

A black sedan came to a halt on a gravel road just outside a large warehouse. A tall, well-dressed man stepped out and straightened his jacket before making his way to the door. His strides were long and confident as he strutted with a certain confidence, a sense of security that he was untouchable. Upon opening the door, the sight he came across was _not _the one he'd been expecting to see. It wasn't the sight he'd flown across the country for.

Several men were on the ground, groaning in pain. Most of them had been shot in the kneecap or shoulder. Or both. Amongst the injured men, one was dead; a gunshot to his forehead had finished him off.

He ran up the stairs and opened the door to what used to be a manager's office. Inside the room was a single table and chair, the rest of the room was empty, save a sawed off rope that hung from a hook in the ceiling. Rage boiling up inside, he flipped the table over with a yell. Turning on his heel, he went back down the stairs and picked up the first man he came across by the collar of his shirt.

"What's your name?" He asked calmly.

"Logan." He muttered, gritting his teeth against the pain of his gunshot wound.

"Okay _Logan_. What happened here_?_" He snarled, momentarily losing his calm persona. "_Where is the girl?_"

The man had been shot in the shoulder and kept his hand over the wound, trying to pass out from the pain but effectively not answering the question. The man moved Logan's hand from his bloody shoulder and pressed his thumb into the wound. Logan fought to keep consciousness. "_S-She was here. Some guy came in, shooting up the place! He took her! Please let go!_"

"Who was this man?" He asked, ignoring Logan's pleas.

"_I don't know_!" He yelled. "_Some guy in a suit! I swear to god that's all I know! Please let go!_"

He released Logan, letting him sink to the floor and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He dialed a number and waited.

"_Quinn._" The voice spoke upon answering the phone.

"The agreement seemed fairly simple." The man said calmly, brushing a piece of lint off his shoulder. "You hire someone to take a _seventeen _year old girl and wait for me to come get her. You do that for me, and _I _keep funding HR. But it seems the 'men' you hired for the job lost the girl. To one man. That doesn't make me want to bust out my checkbook, Quinn."

A sigh was heard over the line. "_One man, you said? Let me guess, he was wearing a suit and shot everyone in the kneecaps. _"

"Yeah," He said. "You know who it is?"

"_I'll find someone else to handle this._"

"No more street thugs." He said, wiping Logan's blood off his hand. "Get your men to _handle_ it. Christ, I don't care if _you _have to take care of it. No more dim-witted goons screwing things up. You will get her back and bring her to me. Understand?"

"_I understand._" Came his rough reply. The man hung up without another word and walked out of the warehouse. He got back into his car and drove down the gravel road, silently fuming.

xXx

"The file. Why was it redacted?" Reese asked, looking over the blacked out words on the page in front of him.

"Jeff's mom was— _is_ the mayor. And if he was anything, he was a momma's boy. She could've easily done that." She said, pointing to the papers on the table. "It's just…I can't believe she'd take it this far. Have me kidnapped? Over something that happened two years ago?"

She shook her head. "I have to call Chief Jamison. And Uncle Dave. They're probably freaking out about now."

She reached for the phone Reese had given her and started to dial. Reese and Finch exchanged a quick look. Finch was about to tell her about her missing uncle, but John interrupted. "We should take care of one problem at a time. Like putting a stop to whoever hired those guys to kidnap you."

She paused for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, alright. What's our next move?"

"You stay here while I find out what those guys at the warehouse know about who hired them." Reese said simply, standing up and shrugging on his coat. "Finch, you should see what you can dig up on the mayor. We'll be back."

Outside in the hallway, Harold and John waited by the elevator doors. "Why didn't you inform her of her uncle's disappearance?"

Reese glanced back towards the room and lowered his voice. "We need her to stay calm for as long as possible, Finch. Chances are the people who kidnapped her, are the ones who took her uncle. As a backup plan, in case things didn't go their way. If she finds out about her uncle, she's gonna want to go looking for him, despite the added danger it would put her in. As of now, she believes he is safe and sound in Washington and as long as she's in the dark about it, they can't use him to lure her out into the open."

Harold didn't feel right about lying to the girl, but saw John's point. "When are we going to tell her?"

"After we take out the threat against her." Reese said.

xXx

The man's phone rang in his pocket as he read over several files. He looked at the screen and let it ring a few more times before answering it.

"Do you have her?"

"_My men are still trying to track her down._"

"You, a Political Advisor, Chief of Staff and Head of HR, can't locate one _seventeen _year old girl?" He said calmly. "Answer something for me. How is it that the street thugs Simmons hired managed to find her, but you can't?"

"_Well she's not just a seventeen year old girl on her own in New York this time._" Quinn stated. "_She's got help._"

"Help?" The man nodded. "Ah yes, the 'man in the suit'. Who is this man who likes shooting people in the kneecaps?"

"_Just a minor nuisance._" Quinn said, attempting to make it sound like something small. "_Nothing to worry about._"

"_Nothing to worry about?_" The man grumbled. He picked up an old newspaper clipping. "Police Scramble to Find Vigilante', 'Crime fighting Vigilante Helps NYPD Put Corrupt Cops Behind Bars'. There are a dozen more like it. Should I continue? Sounds to me that this man, this _vigilante _is a little more than a nuisance, wouldn't you say Alonzo?"

"_We'll handle it._"

"Like you've been _handling it _for the past two years?" The man sighed. "Quinn, HR has always had my support. And we've been friends for god knows how long, but if you can't handle one man standing between you and the girl, there will be one more enemy you can add to your list. Along with Elias. Am I being clear enough for you?"

"_Yes._"

"Good." The man exhaled. "Now I have a flight to catch Thursday afternoon. I fully expect the girl be at the airstrip or there will be hell to pay. Don't forget, Quinn, anyone who gets in my way is expendable."

He hung up before returning his attention to the files in front of him.

xXx

Quinn sighed heavily as he hung up the phone. Simmons, his second in command, stood in front of his desk. "A problem?"

"One of our benefactors," Quinn said. "He's getting impatient and as HR's main supporter, it's extremely important that we keep him happy. Have you gotten any closer to locating the girl?"

"No sir. But I have every available man keeping an eye out for her."

Quinn shook his head. "That's not enough. We need this girl before Thursday."

"What's his interest in this girl?" Simmons asked.

"Apparently she has potentially incriminating evidence against him." Quinn stated.

"And she hasn't used it against him?" Simmons questioned.

"She doesn't know she has it." He leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "Put word out on the street. This girl needs to be found _alive_. Now."

* * *

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